Chapter 13: What Remains of You and Me Across Time

Source Fortress.

The world of mysticism exists as one of the nine primordial essences on Earth.

It is the essential element left behind by the original Creator, necessary for transcending Sequence 0 and reaching beyond the Sequence level—the Old Ones.

It forms the cornerstone of Zhou Mingrui’s “Three Years to Godhood, Five Years to the Old One.”

Hermione dusted off her body and left the study. She walked along the long corridor of the residence and slowly made her way to the room belonging to Lady Misfortune.

Pushing open the door, the room was empty. The handcrafted bed cabinet they once made together during their leisure time stood in the center.

Lady Misfortune greatly admired the lifestyle of the pan-human races.

Hermione removed her outer garment and performed a simple cleansing in the washroom before lying down on Lady Misfortune’s bed.

A faint, delicate fragrance brushed against her nostrils—the lingering essence of Lady Misfortune.

Disregarding distractions, Hermione closed her eyes.

Based on video information and matching abilities, Hermione had determined that she was a Sequence 5 “Dreamwalker” on the Dreamer path. However, her abilities surpassed those introduced in that video.

She could capture the dream remnants of others by using their habitual sleeping places.

Yet, Lady Misfortune’s rank was far beyond hers, and Hermione wasn’t sure if her ability would work.

Concentrating her spirit, Hermione’s mind expanded, taking a high vantage point to overlook the entire stone-tiled room.

In this state, Hermione detected shimmering points like a radiant star river.

Those were the dream remnants belonging to the room’s owner.

It worked…

Maintaining her mental focus, Hermione’s body gradually became ethereal as her consciousness reached toward those tiny points of light.

Suddenly, her vision was engulfed by boundless gray mist. Within it, she could not discern direction; it was as if the desolate terror of the deep sea drowned her awareness.

Ordinary people would feel dizzy or nauseous in this realm, but Hermione was accustomed to it—not exactly at ease, but familiar as if returning home.

This was the “Gray Mist” Urolius had mentioned… but where was that towering palace?

Hermione tried leaping between the dreamlight points, though her spiritual energy rapidly waned. Yet all she saw was the vast gray mist.

Despite the rapid drain, she did not grow impatient. She wandered through the endless fog, extending her spirit to sense and merge with it.

Her patience and perseverance were rewarded as the gray mist gradually thinned.

In a rare clearing, where the mist was thin, the weary Hermione glimpsed a shimmering wide river!

The river seemed vaguely familiar.

Before Hermione could ponder further, the fog on both riverbanks dispersed, revealing buildings that instantly stirred emotions in her calm heart!

They were a fusion of classical and modern architecture!

The sudden sight shattered her usual composure.

Her nearly depleted spiritual energy surged with intense pain and dizziness, forcing Hermione out of the dream. Her form re-materialized on Lady Misfortune’s pure white bed.

With a soft moan, Hermione pressed her fingers to her temples, unable to alleviate the pain. Sweat drenched her body, and a fine sheen of perspiration dotted her forehead.

She opened her eyes.

In the hazy vision, a black figure silently stood at the head of the bed.

Dressed in a sleek black gown woven from the night itself, the form accentuated a slender figure, imbuing an aura of cold aloofness.

It was Lady Misfortune!

“What are you doing, Hermione?” Lady Misfortune frowned, calmly questioning her.

How should she explain?

Should she say she was worried you were tormented by some unknown entity and wanted to investigate through your dreams?

The fatigue of her spirit, the exhaustion of her essence, and the shock left Hermione’s throat hoarse and her mind sluggish—unable to organize complex words.

Thinking of the cityscape amid the gray mist, Hermione cleared her throat and managed to utter a single word:

“London.”

At this moment, Hermione was certain—the city revealed in the thin gray mist was none other than London of old!

Upon pronouncing the English word, a profound and terrifying darkness surged from behind Lady Misfortune like a tide, rapidly engulfing the entire room.

Yet within this realm of pure blackness, Hermione felt no suffocation. Instead, a comforting sensation soothed her weary spirit and nourished her parched essence.

“So, you truly are from Earth.”

Lady Misfortune spoke English now, not with a British accent, but a gentler Northern European tone.

Her use of the word “truly” implied she had long suspected Hermione’s true origin.

The revelation shocked Hermione deeply. But reflecting on their months together, during which she had revealed many habits of modern humans—habits quite alien to the tribes of this era—she realized Lady Misfortune’s suspicions made sense.

If Lady Misfortune was also a contemporary Earthling, those habits would easily expose Hermione’s identity.

“I am, and yet not,” Hermione confessed. “I am more like the fusion of two souls—both Earthling and Hermione… And you?”

From Lady Misfortune’s subtle expressions and habitual gestures, Hermione discerned no hostility, only a faint warmth. Emboldened, she teased, “Could it be that you merged with the Demon Wolf?”

Catching the teasing curiosity in Hermione’s eyes, Lady Misfortune did not grow angry. Instead, a lively helplessness appeared on her face as she explained:

“My situation is different from yours. I am a soul purely from Earth.”

Perhaps the unexpected meeting with a fellow Earthling, combined with their growing familiarity, loosened Lady Misfortune’s tongue.

“When I suddenly awoke in this strange world, I was terrified. Thankfully, this body holds great power, protecting me from being bullied by other creatures.”

“I kept my presence low in this Demon Wolf realm, constantly assessing my surroundings. Fortunately, those Demon Wolves are perennial mad beasts, and they never suspected my identity or changes.”

“My current form was shaped to resemble my appearance on Earth, as I remembered it.”

It was clear Lady Misfortune harbored no fondness for the Demon Wolf tribe—only a faint loathing.

That made sense. As one who roamed freely in the Demon Wolf domain, Lady Misfortune had likely witnessed countless bloody scenes of humans devoured or tormented by those beasts.

Maintaining her humanity, she could hardly feel any kinship with the Demon Wolves.

Yet, Lady Misfortune was not the cold type easily swayed by passion.

Her frank words prompted Hermione to share her own story.

“When I descended and merged, I happened to be caught by a Demon Wolf cub. I am grateful you saved me then.”

“So it was then?” Lady Misfortune’s eyes flickered with realization.

“I have gathered some current information about humans and heard the name Hermione—known among humans as the rare extraordinary ‘Guide.’ So, before the ‘King’s’ palace, I took you in.”

She continued, “During our time together, I noticed some of your modern Earthling habits and grew suspicious, though I wasn’t certain…”

Lady Misfortune sighed softly, “I wonder how many Earthlings like you and me still exist…”

Earthlings were indeed numerous, but those like them—descendants of the Old Ones—were scarce. Hermione sighed inwardly.

All humans and pan-human races could be regarded as Earthlings—elves, giants, all evolved from ancient humans.

Judging by Lady Misfortune’s demeanor, it seemed she was unaware that beneath their feet was Earth itself—the world they once called home.

They had not traversed worlds—they had crossed time.

But the passage of time had stolen everything they once had.

Having witnessed the truth through videos, Hermione sighed, uncertain how to explain this to Lady Misfortune.

Sensing Hermione’s complex and somber emotions, Lady Misfortune fell silent for a moment before suddenly asking, “Have you considered returning to Earth?”